Carry On
by Anya-Paradox
Summary: He's never had someone he would kill to keep safe before. He had fought for his brother, sure, but when push came to shove he left him as fast as he would anyone else. Caryl oneshot. Spoilers for S3 Finale.


A/N: Honestly, I am so grateful for every review Hero still recieves and I thought I should come back to this amazing fandom and write a little more! It's Carol x Daryl of course, and it's just a oneshot :) Enjoy and review!

* * *

Every single person had a breaking point. Merle had been the expert at that -finding out what made people tick, what made them scared and willing to trade all their secrets. It's what had made him so valuable to the governor; sure, he was ruthless and tough, and tactically Merle was a goddamn genius. These were all pros, especially in this new world, but these weren't the things that made Merle valuable. Within seconds of meeting Glenn and Maggie he had known their weaknesses; not only each other, but the prison, the rest of their friends. He had known with Andrea and Michonne: they were strong together, but Andrea's desire for a home would tear them apart.

There was always something. Merle had done it to Daryl for years; hell, he'd even done it to their old man, and he was a tougher son of a bitch than Merle ever could have been.

Merle could push and prod and _talk_ until he had you eating out of his hand. For a guy who'd dropped out of high school he might have been one of the smartest men Daryl could have ever known.

And Daryl did know him; he knew him better than he knew the backs of his own scarred hands, knew him better than the feel of the crossbow, or how to track game. Daryl had known Merle for longer than he'd even known himself it seemed. Daryl knew Merle when he was being mean, when he was being nice, and even when he was just being himself.

It was how Daryl knew Merle had taken Michonne, and how he had known that he would let her go. Merle never did have much heart for hurting women, probably why he had opted to deal with Glenn and left Maggie to the Governor. He'd seen Merle beat men so viciously they almost died, and he'd also seen him converse with the local grocery cashier politely. Merle was changeable; it was what made him so frightening. He could tear your heart out or carry your bags for you, but it was always for a purpose.

Merle always had an endgame.

Daryl wanted to be angry, he wanted to scream and cry and collapse on the ground. He wanted to disappear into the woods and never look back; not for the prison, not for Rick, not for Carol, not for Merle. Instead, he collected himself, stood up, and stared at the mangled body of his brother.

Merle had known he was going to die. There was no other explanation. He wasn't stupid, not like everyone else thought, and he knew how to survive if nothing else. A man doesn't survive prison for as long as Merle without knowing some shit about life.

"Aw, fuck you, Merle." Daryl muttered, scraping his hand down his shirt. It left bloody streaks behind. Daryl figured he had three choices now: he could go to war, he could bury his brother and get the hell outta dodge, or he could go home. None of them were very satisfactory. Daryl didn't particularly care to die as Merle had, and he had no expectations of surviving if he took on all of Woodbury alone, but he did want the Governor dead. He didn't want to bail on the prison group; they pissed him off, sure, but they were all he had now and he wasn't gonna walk out on them.

Still, Daryl didn't want to go home, didn't want to go back and tell Rick about what had happened. Didn't want to see Glenn hide his pleasure at Merle's death and Herschel preach some shit at him about Merle being in heaven.

Merle wasn't in heaven, and Daryl goddamn well knew it. Merle would probably be pissed if he ended up in front of some sparkly white gates. He'd stare at the gates of heaven: _well, jesus, I thought I killed enough people to pass up on this pussy shit. _Daryl almost smiled at the thought.

He knew exactly what he had to do. Daryl stared down at the mangled body of his brother, letting flashes from their childhood play in loops in his brain. He would need to be like Merle to kill the Governor; feel no fear, only survival. Find the breaking point, find the weakness, and exploit it.

Daryl wasn't like Merle, never had been. Not in any of the ways that counted. He couldn't kill the Governor alone, and he didn't want to. People weren't a weakness to be exploited, they were a strength to be used.

But when the time came -and it would come, it always did- Daryl knew exactly what the Governor's weakness was, since it was the same is Merle's had been. People didn't _like_ mean men; no one would willingly follow an asshole if they had half a chance to get away.

There was a reason Daryl hadn't looked for his brother after that rooftop.

* * *

Daryl was surprised to find the prison a welcome sight. He had grown used to hating it's dark towers, and the way he felt trapped within it. He preferred the farm, preferred to have trees and rivers near him. Daryl hated prison cells, and he had enough experience with them for that to be an educated opinion.

Still, this prison was different, in a lot of ways. He wasn't locked in to protect others, walkers were locked out. He wasn't powerless in the cells, he had Rick's ear, and Rick was in charge. He had people who cared about him in there, cared enough to notice if he was gone, if not mourn the fact.

Daryl didn't know a hell of a lot about family, but he figured that this would be as close as he got.

Plus, the prison had Carol. He didn't know why she was in a different category to the others, but she was. The others -Rick, Lori, Herschel- they cared about him because he was an asset; he was a fighter, as worthy as his aim was on his weapon. He only mattered as long as food kept appearing on the table.

Carol, though, she cared. She cared in a way that was completely unfamiliar to Daryl; she cared for him, and wanted to protect him in return for his protection. The closest Daryl had ever come to that was Merle, and that was simply because they were brothers and Merle liked to fight; if it was in Merle's best interest to bail on Daryl, he would.

"Daryl, you're back!" Rick's voice, a combination of pleased and stressed. It seemed that Rick couldn't decide what to feel at any given moment, or whether he was sane or not. Today, it looked like Rick was sane.

Which was good, since Daryl was pretty sure they were about to be crushed under the thumb of a madman.

Daryl brushed the cop's hand off his shoulder, "Merle's dead. Governor's still alive. We gotta get ready."

Rick's face turned to stone, his cyan eyes turning dark and dangerous; this wasn't the man who had walked down the aisle towards Lori, this was the monster this world had created.

Michonne was beside Rick, silent as always. Daryl hated her, couldn't help it. It wasn't hard to see she was a survivor, maybe even more so than he was. She might have even had more in common with Merle, and Daryl wondered if that was why his brother had decided to let her go in the end.

"Sorry," the first word she had spoken to him.

Daryl shrugged, "Ain't nobody can kill Merle, but Merle."

Michonne nodded, agreeing with him silently.

Daryl left them behind in his haste to get back to the prison, to find the others and prepare them for the battle that was coming. To find a piece of food, and perhaps a spare moment to say goodbye to Carol before he left to Woodbury. She wouldn't follow him, he would make her promise to stay with Judith, and nothing had more sway over Carol than the baby. She treated the newest member of their group like she was more precious than gold, and Daryl often wondered if it was because Judith reminded her of Sophia, or if she had always just loved children. He kinda suspected the latter.

"Daryl!" Her voice reached him seconds before the sight of her did, whirling around a corner in their cell block. She stopped abruptly before him, visibly restraining herself from throwing her arms around him in relief. Daryl almost wished she didn't have the control.

"Carol," he murmured, "Merle's dead. We're gonna hafta fight 'em."

Her smile dropped, "I'm so sorry. On both counts."

Daryl shrugged. He usually hated it when people apologized; it wasn't their goddamn fault his brother was an idiot. Still, Carol meant it, and she understood more than anyone else what it was to lose someone that you both hated and loved.

Her hand reached out, lingered on his arm. His skin tingled, tender to her touch, and Daryl honestly wondered if she knew what she was doing to him.

"I mean it, Daryl. Merle didn't deserve that. _You _didn't deserve it."

Daryl held her gaze for longer than he thought he would, then moved past her and her words. He couldn't linger today, not when the threat was looming over them. He refused to let his family be destroyed by the Governor, like fucking lambs to the slaughter. The Governor wanted blood, wanted to hurt Michonne and Rick as much as they had hurt him, and Daryl knew exactly who he would go after to accomplish it. The people they loved most, the most helpless ones: their breaking points.

Judith and Carl; children, not even lambs to the slaughter, only ewes that hadn't gotten their feet under them in this world of wolves. Rick couldn't survive another blow like that.

Andrea. Daryl knew she didn't have a chance in hell. Michonne cared about her, it was easy enough to see even if the woman behaved like an emotionless robot. The Governor wouldn't have missed that, and he would hardly hesitate to destroy Andrea if it meant Michonne would feel the loss. He would make her hurt too, leave her body visible and broken: Michonne would have to see how she had been tortured to really understand.

Daryl glanced back to Carol's retreating form where she greeted Rick and Michonne. He couldn't imagine that type of pain, to see someone you cared about absolutely devastated, gone beyond all salvation. Merle was gone and it hurt, but Daryl had hardly imagined a different end for his brother.

Someone kind, and innocent? The image of Sophia leaving the barn doors flashed behind his eyes; her eyes blank and teeth hungry for flesh. He hadn't even known the damn kid, and it still hurt him to think of it.

He wanted the Governor's blood for Merle, but he supposed Michonne might deserve it more, in the end.

After all, Carol was still here, was still safe.

He'd kill anyone who tried to change that.


End file.
